“He was half drunk and demanded to know why I hate him,” I said, stealing a fry from her plate and shoving it into my mouth.
“Did you enlighten him?” she asked, appearing pleased that he’d called.
“Eventually.” I chewed thoughtfully.
“And what did he have to say for himself?”
“The usual excuses.‘It’s not what you think it was. I don’t have any feelings for Nora.’Yada, yada, yada, and so forth. And then he apologized.” I frowned down at my food. I wondered if he even remembered calling me. “He wants to call a truce for your wedding week.”
“Interesting.”
I could tell there was something else she wanted to say, but for some reason, she was hesitating. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to say whatever it was. Our forks and knives screeched across our plates as we continued to eat in silence.
Olivia took a deep breath, resting her fork on her plate. “For what it’s worth, he’s told Jack the same thing multiple times about Nora. I know they’re friends, and they’re close, but I don’t think it’s like that with those two.”
Sure, it was possible, but the damage was done. I didn’t trust him, and nothing that had happened over the last several months had shown me anything different from what I’d suspected.
Ben was a playboy.
He went from girl to girl, charming his way into their pants and then moving on the next week.
“It doesn’t matter. That door is firmly closed,” I replied.
“If you say so,” she said doubtfully, shoveling in another bite and avoiding my gaze.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Nothing.” She bit her lip to contain whatever else she wanted to say.
She was clearly insinuating something, and I wanted to know exactly what she thought.
I pointed my finger at her. “Say it,” I demanded.
She stared at me, sizing me up like she was deciding if I really wanted to hear what she was about to say.
She sighed, conceding.
“I don’t think that door is as firmly closed as you think it is.”
My mouth dropped open. Was she kidding me right now? I glared at her. “Oh, it’s closed,” I said. “Locked. And bolted.”
“Sure.” She nodded, pursing her lips a little. “That’s why you look like you’re going to upend the table when he flirts with someone else?”
“I—”
She cut me off before I could defend myself.
“And that’s why he looks like he’ll slit any guy’s throat who tries to come talk to you when we’re at the bar together.”
“He—”
She continued, on a roll now that she’d started speaking her mind.
“I’m sure that’s why you both are constantly keeping tabs on the other out of the corner of your eye or why you can’t stop bickering about absolutely nothing. I’m also sure that’s why if you guys ever accidentally touch each other, it feels like a bomb went off with the waves of tension and heat that come off the two of you.”
“We—”
“But yeah... firmly closed. Not even open a crack, right?” She gazed at me skeptically over her glass of Coke.
